The Sparkle Pants Ruse
by Mizufae
Summary: Co-written with Hyperactivecheskie. Why are Sam and Freddie with Gibby at the mall? This can't be good. This story will dazzle you.


**A/N: This very silly story was co written by myself and Hyperactivecheskie. You can read her stories at .net/u/921209/hyperactivecheskie which I highly suggest! She is hilarious. I couldn't tell you what bits I did and what bits she did, it was truly a collaborative effort. We ho****pe you enjoy. **

**While you are at it, you should know that I, Mizufae, have had two of my fics nominated for a UFO Award in the iCarly category! What a delightful honor. If you would like to, it would be sweet of you to go vote for either Apples to Apples or Point & Click at www~dot~dotmoon~dot~net~slash~awards. Voting should be up anytime now! Okay, shameless pimping over now. On to the story!**

**

* * *

  
**

**The Sparkle Pants Ruse**

Carly leans her face against the edge of her open locker door. It has been a long day, and the afternoon of student government is about to begin in only twenty minutes. Slowly gathering her books, she wonders where Sam is. Normally, Sam is ready to leave as soon as the last bell rings, but today she is nowhere to be seen.

"Code AW, Nurse Bridges, Code AW in the cafeteria." It is Principal Franklin, rushing down the hall with a pink bottle of calamine lotion in one hand and a radio in the other. Carly squints her eyes. _What would AW stand for?_

Just then, she is interrupted by Freddie's cheerful wave. "Hey Carly! Sam told me to tell you she was taking care of something in the cafeteria and not to wait for her." Oh, god, no, _Alabama Wedgie__._

With a squawking gasp, Freddie is dragged by his backpack strap into the cafeteria, Carly pulling him all the way. She pushes open the swinging doors with a shove of her palm, revealing a distressing tableau.

Gibby is rolling on the floor in pain, his pants a terrifying, smoking mess. Principal Franklin arches over him, bottle of lotion clutched tightly in his palm. A crowd of horrified, awestruck students cluster around the two of them, mumbling concern and disgust. Still dragging Freddie behind her, Carly shoves her way into the center of the circle, catching Principal Franklin's eye. "Where is Nurse Bridges? I can't put the calamine on his…areas," he pleadingly says to Carly.

She ignores him though, stepping lightly over Gibby's prone form, to yank someone yellow and plaid out of the crowd of kids. "Did you honestly think you could get away with this?" Carly demands of Sam, who is rubbing her scalp lightly.

Freddie prods Gibby with the toe of his shoe. Gibby groans, mumbling something about habanera peppers. Sam's voice rises over the moans from the floor. "You told me I had to take my science project seriously! Well this is my experiment," she says, pointing at Gibby. Carly widens her eyes and raises her eyebrow, silently demanding an explanation. "Will the Alabama Wedgie induce more pain than the Texas Wedgie," Sam replies, in all seriousness.

"Ugh, I can't deal with this right now!" Carly raises both her hands in surrender, her hair swinging from side to side as she shakes her head for emphasis.

Freddie hauls Gibby up with a stumble. "My...pants. These were my last pants." Gibby moans, grabbing at his tattered waistband. Everyone, absolutely everyone, stares with reproach towards Sam.

"Fine! We'll get him some pants!" she says, hands held protectively in front of her.

*

"I can't believe I'm missing the new episode of Yu-Gi-Mon for this. Why did Carly make me promise to keep an eye on you guys?" Freddie whines as he fingers through rows of cotton slacks.

Carly, having previous student government obligations, had worked her charms on Freddie and convinced him to take her place as responsible chaperone to Sam and Gibby at the Ridgeway Mall that afternoon. Freddie doesn't know how she did it. It had something to do with the phrase "For me?" but other than that he had no clue.

"I'm missing my therapy session!" Gibby replies, adjusting his pair of borrowed gym shorts. "Today we were supposed to be doing affirmation breathing exercises."

"I'll affirmation you if you don't shut it and try on some pants already! " Sam shouts, shoving Gibby into a rack of tweed trousers.

Swiftly reaching out a hand to Sam's shoulder, Freddie shakes his head disapprovingly. Sam sighs, and plucks a fallen pair of pants off of Gibby's face. "What about these?" she asks.

Gibby scrunches up his face in disgust. "But these pants are ugly! I need to get cool pants. Something with style."

"Just try them on, Gibby. Maybe they will make you look really, er," Freddie struggles for the right word, "zippang?"

"Fine," Gibby sighs, retreating towards the dressing rooms. "But give me my privacy!"

"Come on, let's find a boyfriend chair. Momma's butt needs some rest." Sam waggles her head towards a row of chairs placed along the wall.

Freddie soon becomes familiar with the variety of "boyfriend chairs" available for sitting on in the Ridgeway Mall. The next couple of hours is a seemingly unending montage of sitting next to Sam, waiting a few minutes, and then being treated to the dubious delight of a shirtless Gibby modeling every possible pair of ill-fitting pants. Gibby twirls for them, his belly jiggling happily over the edge of chino, after khaki, after trouser.

When this first happens, Sam leans into Freddie's ear. "Do you think he knows he doesn't have to take his shirt off to try on pants?" she asks, as Gibby disappears back into the changing rooms.

Freddie shakes his head, weary. "Who can say what Gibby does and does not know?"

Slowly but surely, they wind their way from one end of the mall to the other, heading inexorably closer to the food court. The gleaming signs of the Goodburger, the Mrs. Hills Giant Cookies, and the Orange Lazarus glint in Sam's eager eyes.

"Oh, let's go in here!" Gibby exclaims, pulling Sam away from her route. "See, Freddie? Those pants have style," he says, pointing towards a part of black pants with shining embellishments on the back pockets. However, before Freddie can take a closer look at the curiously shiny pants, Sam spins him around and points at the food court.

"Get me an Orange Lazarus and a double cheese Good burger!" she orders, as she pushes him towards the commingled scent of international cuisines.

"Wha- Sam! I don't want to do an errand! Sam!" Freddie objects, as he stumbles forward. Once he regains his balance he turns around and shoots her a scowl. "I did not care for that," he says, adjusting his shirt.

"Just do it," Sam says as she leads Gibby towards the pants that had seemingly hypnotized him. "We'll be in that purple looking store," she points.

Freddie rolls his eyes in contempt. He takes a step towards the food court when he realizes something. "Wait, what size?" he yells after Sam and Gibby's retreating forms.

"Small, because I'm on a diet. LARGE, Freddoof!"

After waiting in an endlessly long line and losing brain cells from dealing with the Good Burger guy, Freddie finally completes his mission. He grumbles to himself as he walks towards the purple store, Sam's burger and drink in hand. His feet hurt, he was seven dollars short and all he wants now is to sink down on that boyfriend chair and prop his feet up on-- Argh! Freddie stops in his tracks when he sees that the only boyfriend chair available is occupied by Sam.

"Sam," he calls as he approaches her, flopped along the comfortable black leather seat. "Sam? Great, she's asleep." A snore greets him, as if to confirm his declaration, and he rolls his eyes.

_Wait a second_, he thinks to himself, as something pink and frilly catches his eye. He looks to the left, then to the right. His eyebrows furrow in annoyance as pinks, purples and sequins fill his vision. He swiftly scans the whole store from his spot just to make sure, spinning in a circle. Oh, no she didn't! They were in a girl's store! Sam and Gibby had been spending twenty futile minutes in this store looking at women's clothes while he was being her errand boy.

"Sam!" he growls, looking back at her sleeping form. He kicks the bottom of the chair. Sam rearranges herself on the chair with a low squeak, but does not open her eyes. He knows she's awake, she must be waiting for Gibby to bring her some shoes or something.

The thought of missing a very crucial episode of Yu-Gi-Mon suddenly crosses his mind. That's it, the last straw. Sam's hair is splayed out invitingly, all along the reclined headrest of the chair. Freddie raises an eyebrow, takes a long slurp of the Orange Lazarus, shudders from its chill, pops off the lid, and slowly pours its contents all down Sam's shiny, soft hair. The freezing glop slops over the edge of the paper cup in near slow motion, pooling around Sam's neck and the seams of the fancy chair.

His eyes trail down to Sam's face, watching a melting drip of Lazarus trace the curve of her temple, to her furious, and extremely open eyes.

Freddie flinches back, eyes wide. Sam stays mostly still, but takes a lock of her own hair in one hand and sucks the frozen drink off the tip. "You didn't just do that," she says, like an iceberg.

Screwing up his remaining ire, Freddie leans forward. "You've been here trying on frilly tops and making Gibby bring you different sizes of padded panties when I was - gaah!"

Sam leaps forward, catlike, her hands extended to claw at Freddie's striped polo shirt. Her wet, dripping hair sluices Orange Lazarus all over the expensive leather chair and down her back, making her shiver, and shake Freddie by extension.

Freddie's knees buckle with practiced resignation; she's got him down on the floor in no time. "I don't NEED PADDED PANTIES!" she shouts at him, emphasizing every word by hitting the ground with his back.

"Why not? It'll help your butt look less deformed!"

"Why don't YOU make your face less deformed?"

A saleswoman interrupts them with a curt "Excuse me?" and a cough. They stop clawing at each other's hair long enough to see a stern woman in a frilly pink blouse with hands on her hips.

But then Freddie knees Sam in the thigh, and they go back to producing random growling noises and incomprehensible insults.

The saleswoman calls the manager, an effeminate and older version of Nevel. He pinches their ears and separates them, the two howling in pain.

"You are banned from Moist Sealion forevermore!" he wails, and he shoves them out the door, surrendering them to a short, stubby mall cop.

The manager stomps back into his store. He retrieves a bottle of hand sanitizer and applies it generously on his palms, "Filthy children!" he sneers and walks off in a huff.

As he does so, Gibby walks out of the changing room and starts modeling in front of the mirrors that line the walls. He bends and scans the mirror, inspecting the shiny back pockets of his pants. "Guys, do these pants make me look fat?" When no one answers, he looks at the chair-- only to find an orange mess and a miserable sales assistant bending over with a dirty rag. "Guys? Aw, man!"

Outside, the cop starts interrogating the two delinquents. "You dare disturb the peace of my mall?" he drawls, as Freddie's knees shake in fear and Sam's eyes narrow in defiance.

"What, do you own the mall?" Sam answers back. Freddie's mouth drops at Sam's audacity.

Unfazed, the officer leans forward, close enough that she could smell his breath. She winces-- anchovies and donuts. "Marvin don't like that tone, young lady."

"Well I don't like you! You ugly--" but Sam's voice is drowned by a high pitched beeping sound coming from Moist Sealion. Marvin directs his attention from behind them and finds a pudgy, shirtless boy rush out of it.

Sam takes this opportunity to grab Freddie's hand and try to escape, "Run!" she yells.

Freddie takes a great skipping leap along the corridor but stops abruptly as he smacks face first into a wall of meat. "Ooof." He looks up, slowly, first noticing the Mall Cop badge, and finally into a thick-necked face. The name tag reads "Bruno."

"Um, hello Officer Bruno..." Freddie begins, but his arm is still being tugged by Sam from around Bruno's formidable torso.

"Come on, let's go!" she is saying.

"I heard you were having some trouble here, Marv?" asks the enormous man.

Marvin, meanwhile, has tackled Gibby to the ground. "Run for it guys! They'll never catch you! Be free! Free like the wind!" Gibby's voice comes muffled from the floor. "Ow, that's my vertebrae!" he says, as Marvin knees him in the back.

Sam tugs Freddie's hand once more. "Let go ugly!" she shouts at Bruno, who is gripping Freddie's shoulders.

"That voice, that uppity whine, I know you!" Bruno says, pointing a meaty finger in Sam's face. "You almost cost me my job!"

Sam pushes his finger out of her face with a slap. "Yeah well I don't know you so-"

Bruno cuts her off, spittle flying out of his mouth. "I am still paying for those damages! And the boxer shorts! How can you have forgotten??"

Sam just shrugs, still trying to pull Freddie free. "Don't know, don't care. Let go!" She yanks Freddie once more, but Bruno continues to hold on.

"My limbs are not meant for pulling!" Freddie howls in pain.

As the Freddie tug-of-war and Marvin trying to sedate Gibby goes on, a voice interrupts from a short distance. "Do I have to rescue you boys every single time?"

Gibby opens his eyes and sees a pair of sensible shoes attached to long, slender legs. He looks up, curious to see its owner. "Wow, an angel..." He whispers to himself, when he finds a stern looking woman, her ginger hair tied up in a bun.

Marvin stands up, hoisting Gibby from the ground by the waist of his pants, and adjusts his own uniform. "Officer Joan, Ma'am, we were just apprehending these here hoodlums."

"Bruno, take the girl, I'll get this one," Joan says, pointing towards Freddie. "Come with me, young man. You are all in a lot of trouble, I hope you understand that."

Freddie finally relinquishes Sam's hand and follows Joan obediently, not seeing Bruno cringe as Sam makes faces at the man twice her size.

*

Gibby, Sam and Freddie are sitting in the reception area of the Ridgeway mall-cop headquarters. Each have different expressions painted on their faces. Sam listlessly looks around, bored, while Freddie nervously rubs his hands together. Meanwhile, Gibby is adjusting his pants nervously. He pauses, then a look of realization slowly appears, "Oh! I forgot my clothes!"

"Alright kids, maybe I will let you off easy," Joan says as sits on the edge of the table in front of them. Whispers of joy follow her news. "But," she continues, "before I do, you three need to be interviewed separately and I need one guardian to come pick all of you up." At this, the three faces fell. "Now," She says with her hands folded across her chest, "who's parents are you going to call?"

There is a nervous shifting of eyes before each of them simultaneously bursts out in objection.

"My mom doesn't know I'm here! If she finds out she will send me to a mental health retreat!"

"My mom will home school me 'till I'm 50!"

"My mom can't be reached. Our cat ate her phone."

"No respect for the law!" Marvin cuts in from behind, his mouth full of left-over pizza.

"I'm not interrogating that blonde girl!" Bruno, not to be left out, points.

"Ok, enough!" Joan holds up her hand to silence them. "You children better make a decision or else I will call your school and have them call your parents! And you two," she glares at her two colleagues, "no more pizza!"

Sam elbows Freddie, who in turns elbows Gibby. With a deep breath, Gibby stands up and covers the two from Joan's sight. He crosses his arms in front of his chest and eyes her accordingly.

"Excuse me, but we need to confer," he says with a glare.

Sam grabs Freddie's upper arm and pulls him close to her. "You started this, you take the fall, Fredward!" she whispers furiously in his ear.

"You would never see me again if I did that!"

"Well, you have to do something!" She tightens her grip on his triceps, or lack thereof.

"Fine!" Freddie resigns. "I have an idea," he says as he glances at Joan and back at Sam. "But you have to go with it, okay?"

At this, Sam nods and lets go of him. Freddie readjusts his shirt and, with a moment's hesitation, stands up to put a hand on Gibby's shoulder. "I've got this."

Joan nods at the two cops behind her and they take Gibby and Sam away.

"Wait, I just need to go back and get my clothes, I left them in the store," Gibby pleads as he is being led to the interrogation room by Marvin.

"Justice waits for no one!" Marvin says, practically chanting, as Freddie watches them walk away.

"So," Joan interrupts his reverie. She hands him the wireless phone. "Are you ready to make that call?"

*

"What I don't get is why you and your friends refused to call your guardians," Marvin says as he paces around the dingy room that he had taken Gibby into. Gibby suspects that it was a broom closet with an extra desk in it. Marvin suddenly slaps his palm on the cold, metal desk in an attempt to catch him off guard. "Tell me why, boy!"

"I told you," Gibby says in exasperation, "I missed therapist day for this!"

"Aha! Therapist day," Marvin moves his face closer to Gibby's, his nose only a few inches away. "I know you're lying, boy. I know this because," he moves back once more and raises a finger, "this is obviously a conspiracy."

"A what?"

"A conspiracy! You are obviously trying to rid the world of sparkly pants and I refuse to be party to your schemes!" He says, pointing a stubby finger at Gibby's bored face.

*

"And then they called backup. I swear that is what happened."

"I do not know what you're talking about."

Bruno looks at Sam's uncaring face with disbelief. "Are you sure you don't remember? I was kicked off the Force because of it!"

Sam shrugs innocently.

Bruno, obviously aggravated by Sam's forgetfulness, scratches his shiny bald head. "I can't believe you. How can you forget that? I endured Sensitivity Workshops! That case was a legend in my old headquarters!"

Sam sighs and shakes her head.

"Not even the incident about the chicken?"

"Oh yeah! I do remember that! Oh, wait, no, the thing with the rubber chicken was for Freddie... and so was the fake vomit... and the pretend malaria breakout."

"Unbelievable," Bruno says, shaking his head. He lays his palms on the desk and leans on it, his head lowered in surrender.

Sam gives him a smirk. "Bruno, you think you have it bad. You should have been there when Freddie decided it was a good idea to tie my shoelaces together while I was napping," Sam gets a far away look in her eyes and nods, "Ah, good times." This, however, did not cheer the burly man up. Seeing this, Sam stands up and says "Look, from what you told me, that was nothing." She points to her now vacant chair, "Sit down and lemme tell you something."

*

"Why did you pour the orange lazarus on your friend's hair, Sir?"

"She was asleep!"

"That is not a viable excuse, Sir." Joan crosses her hands across her chest. She has a feeling there is something this boy isn't telling her. She just doesn't know what.

Freddie in the meantime, is wracking his brain for a way to justify his earlier actions_. __It's all Sam's fault_, he thinks. He sighs and leans in slowly, sliding his hands on the surface of the desk. "Well," he says, "to be totally honest with you I had intended on emptying out the cup and using it to steal women's underwear."

Joan widens her eyes in shock, "WHAT?"

Freddie leans back and shakes his head. "No," he scoffs. Joan's shocked expression quickly melts from her face. Freddie then continues, "Look lady, I don't know what to say. Except that Sam just makes me so angry sometimes I have lapses in judgment!"

*

The interrogation hasn't been going anywhere. Marvin eyes the shirtless boy from across the desk. _Look at him, sitting innocently in that chair, playing with his bellybutton like a child_, he thinks. Suddenly, a brilliant idea occurs. Marvin's eyebrows shoot upward.

"What I don't understand about your cunning plan, Mister Gibby, is what you are doing with those two stooges," he asks with a thumb gesture to the rooms next door and down the hall. Marvin had decided that, maybe, by questioning him about his accomplices, he may be able to break down the complicated web of lies that this mastermind has weaved.

Gibby looks up from his seat. "What, those two?" He shrugs. "Whatever, they just want to make out with each other. I'm just here for the pants."

"Aha!" Marvin raises his finger successfully. "So you admit to wanting the pants! Wanting to eradicate them, that is!" He straightens his back and nods proudly. "I knew I could get it outta you, boy. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Gibby sighs, exasperated. "Look, Officer Marvin, why would I eradicate pants that would make me look this sassy?" And with that, Gibby leaps up onto the desk and points his butt in Marvin's face, shocking him and making him abruptly fall from his chair.

*

"Wow, did he really lose his mind?" Bruno looks up, wide eyed, at Sam from the interrogation chair.

"Yep. But that part wasn't my fault," she points out.

Bruno leans back on his chair, a sense of calm washing over him. After that story, he decided he is going to start counting his blessings a little more. Maybe later he'll take his wife and kids out to McDonald's or something.

"Grr, I'm hungry," Sam grumbles to herself. Bruno snaps out of his musings and looks at her. "All this story telling is making me hungry! Why did Fredweird have to be so stupid, AND he didn't give me my burger like I asked."

"Well, why don't we finish up this interview," Bruno sits up and grabs the form and pen in front of Sam. "Just tell me why your friend was trying to shoplift women's pants shirtless and I'll let you go get a burger."

"Hah, no, I would just make Freddie get me another one," she says as she leans back on Bruno's office chair and props her feet up on the desk.

With trepidation, Bruno suggests something, to Sam's shock, "Maybe you take advantage of this Freddie of yours a little too much. It sounds to me like you spend more time annoying him than you spend making yourself happy."

Sam leaps up off her perch behind Bruno's cluttered desk. "Bruno, you are a complete nutbar! Those sensitivity training sessions obviously did nothing for you but fill your head with lies!"

*

Freddie glances impatiently at the wall clock. He is not sure, but it seems as if the second hand is taking ten seconds to travel from one number to the other. He looks at his now sticky polo shirt and grimaces as he observes the light orange spatters. It will take some double soaking to make it clean again. He furrows his eyebrows, something is bothering him and it he isn't sure if it's the orange spatters or--

"Burger!" he says out loud.

"Excuse me?" Joan asks as she looks up from the forms that lay in front of her.

"Um, Ma'am, do you mind if you let me get something for Sam to eat? I just remembered I forgot to give her her burger, and she and Bruno have both been awfully quiet for at least ten minutes."

Joan raises an eyebrow "So? Do you not think he can handle her?"

"You would be surprised at what Sam will do to a man when she is hungry."

"That tactic won't work with me, Sir. Why don't you just tell me what really happened and maybe we can both go get something for Sam."

Freddie groans, frustrated, and looks at the clock again. He doesn't really know what Joan wants out of him. He told her the truth, he told her he cant pay for the chair due to his pitiful allowance, and he is growing more and more worried about the quiet murmuring coming from Officer Bruno's little room. Could she be making him beg for mercy?

Just as Freddie takes a deep breath to ask, at the very least, to go check and see if Bruno is okay, there is a knock on the office door.

"Come in, its open!" announces Joan, who smoothes her uniform with a few brisk strokes.

The door squeaks open and Freddie beams when he sees who it is. He never thought he'd be so happy seeing another man walk into a room until now. The man nods at Freddie, and approaches Officer Joan with an outstretched hand.

"Why, hello there. I'm Spencer Shay." Spencer flashes his signature smile as Joan took his hand.

"Nice to meet you Mr. Shay."

"Please, call me Spencer," he says as he continues to grin at her. Freddie notes at this moment that Spencer is still holding Joan's hand.

"Very well, Spencer," Joan smiles as she slowly pulls away. "I'm Officer Joan and--"

"Joan," Spencer places a finger on his pursed lips. "I know a Joan," he then steps closer as he studies her face. It suddenly dawns on him. "Joan! You're from that party last week! You're that girl who can burp the alphabet, aren't you?"

Freddie looks at Joan in disbelief. The woman is blushing! He turns back to look at Spencer, who is still mentioning details of the party. Freddie blinked as Spencer mentions Joan's dress that night.

"Oh, that wasn't me," she says as she tries to hold back a smile. "I don't know who that was, but these three children say you are responsible for them?"

Spencer ignores her previous statement and prods on, "Are you SURE it wasn't you?" He crosses his arms across his chest slowly. "Because that was really impressive."

Freddie had never thought a person could choke on his own saliva, but when Joan starts to giggle he almost does.

Joan looks down in an attempt to collect herself. Spencer takes this moment to lean in to Freddie and conspicuously say, "I got this kiddo. Don't worry." He pops up once more just as Joan looks back up. "Well if it was you," he says, "and I think it might have been, what do you say to coming over to my place later, and treating me to a reenactment after some freshly baked cookies?"

"Well I don't know, what sort of cookies?" she asks, with a sly tone.

Spencer takes a step closer and leans on the table with one hand, "Any sort of cookie a pretty lady like yourself would enjoy."

Then just when Freddie thinks that this exchange couldn't get more ridiculous, Joan slowly unclasps the clip that had held her hair. She shakes her head softly, making her red hair fall down to her shoulders.

_Spencer got skills_, he concludes.

After what seems like forever, Freddie breathes a sigh of relief. Spencer had managed to get them off with nothing but a small warning. In addition, he had booked himself a date.

Freddie walks out of the office, right behind a giggling mall cop and Spencer. Joan leads them toward Bruno's office. As they approach the door, Freddie starts to hear muffled sobs, and panic suddenly rises from his stomach and spreads all over his body. Oh no, poor Bruno! He takes great leaping steps towards the door and opens it in one swift movement.

Freddie is unsurprised to find Bruno sniffling sadly. He is, however, surprised to find that he isn't in a fetal position on the floor with Sam hovering over his bulky form. Instead, Sam is awkwardly rubbing his back while handing him a tissue.

As if sensing a presence, Bruno and Sam look towards the open door and find Freddie, Spencer and Joan observing the strange sight. They spring apart, very embarrassed.

The next stop is Marvin and Gibby. As they get closer, both Freddie and Sam hear music float across the hall that leads towards repurposed closet. They give each other a knowing look. Music, at this point, can only mean one thing. When they open the door, they find Gibby on top of Marvin's metal desk. He is gyrating to the music emanating from the computer as Marvin sobs uncontrollably on the floor.

"Hey guys! Care to join me?" Gibby pats his stomach to punctuate his question.

"Make the boy stop!" demands Marvin.

"Time to go home, Gibby." Spencer lends him a hand in getting down off the desk. Gibby sighs, feeling accomplished.

*

Spencer, Sam, Freddie, and Gibby are walking through the parking lot, free at last. The setting sun glints like an orange lazarus into their eyes.

"Oh man, I almost forgot!" Sam declares, and runs back towards the back exit of the mall.

"I still can't believe that they wouldn't let me buy the pants," grumbles Gibby. "Evidence my butt!"

"Well at least Joan got you back into the store for your old clothes," Freddie shrugs, watching Gibby readjust his borrowed gym shorts once again.

"Yeah but now I'm back at square one, without any pants, and I missed my breathing affirmation exercises to boot! I really liked those pants. They were so sassy." Gibby is crestfallen. "I guess I should just cut my losses."

Spencer pats him comfortingly on the shoulder. "Don't worry, little man. My buddy Socko has a cousin who's a seamstress. She can make you some sassy pants from scratch, how about that?"

Freddie has a suspicion, so he just shrugs and asks. "Is her name Taylor?"

"How did you know?"

There is the sound of footsteps running up from behind them. Sam arrives, and bumps her shoulder in Freddie's as they are getting into Spencer's car. "Did you miss me?" she asks.

"Of course not," Freddie says, buckling his seatbelt.

On the way back, Gibby calls his mother, smoothly informing her that he had a bit of a breakthrough at Session, which is why he will be home a little later that day. Sam and Freddie exchange a glance in the backseat. Since when could Gibby lie like that?

"Has he been taking lessons from you?" Freddie mouths to Sam. She elbows him in the gut.

*

It is dinner time at the Benson's. Freddie gets up from the table to answer a knock at the door. He opens the door to Sam's beleaguered face. "I came to use your bathroom. My hair is still covered in orange lazarus, thanks to you." She pushes her way in without waiting for a response.

"Why did you wait two hours?" Freddie asks, waving his mother away.

"I've been busy eating and stealing Spencer's baked cookies. Besides it's your fault for not feeding me. I was compensating for lost eating time."

Freddie rolls his eyes at her, but she remains unaffected.

"Besides, Joan just walked in." she makes a disgusted face.

"Sam, it is dinner time! You can't be in my shower while we are having spinach quiche"

She puts her hands on her hips, resting her backpack in the crook of her wrist. "I don't want to be taking a shower to the sound of "Let's Get It On" coming from Spencer's room."

Freddie involuntarily smacks his hand over his eyes. "Don't tell me, when she showed up she was still wearing the uniform, only in heels, wasn't she."

"How did you know?" she asks, making her way to the bathroom.

"Spencer and I have, um, talks, sometimes. Anyway don't use the blue soap!" he shouts after Sam, who has already got the water turned on, steam pouring out into the living room.

Right when Freddie sits back down to dinner, Sam's head pops out of the bathroom door. "If Carly asks you where I am, tell her I went home. I'm not sleeping in that apartment tonight!"

*

Sam comes out of the shower, squeaky clean and refreshed. Her hair is finally free of sugary orange mess. "Hey Mrs. B, where's Freddie?" she asks Marissa, who, eager to get the crazy girl out of her apartment, informs Sam that her son is out on the fire escape down the hall.

Swiftly vaulting through the open window, Sam startles Freddie who is eating a sandwich. "What happened to spinach quiche?" she asks.

Freddie, realizing that it wasn't his mother, brings the now crushed sandwich out from his pocket. "Spinach quiche is disgusting."

Sam leans with her back against the railing, letting the city wind dry her hair. There is a pause, and then she feels a knock at her hip. She looks down to see Freddie handing her half of his dinner.

"You were gonna take it from me if I didn't give it to you."

"That's for sure." Sam takes a huge bite and chews. It isn't a Goodburger, but it will do.

Freddie finishes his half, wipes his hands on his shirt, and frowns. "Puckett, turn around."

"Um, what?"

He stands up, places his hands on her shoulders, and forces her to rotate. "Now, bend over."

"This is not making me any more comfortable…"

"You stole Gibby's sparkly pants!" he shouts.

Sam laughs, and hooks her elbows over the railing. "Yup."

"They make your butt look big."

"That is the point, Benson."

**THE END**


End file.
